Behind The Masks

Chapter 2

The moment Aarohi stepped out of the ward, the tension in her body gave way to something heavier. Her steps were brisk, almost hurried, but the further she walked, the tighter her throat felt.

Her eyes burned. She blinked rapidly, but a single tear escaped anyway, trailing down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, fingers pressing hard against her skin.

Not here. Not now.

She sucked in a breath and kept moving, head down, jaw clenched. Maybe if she reached the washroom fast enough, she could push this feeling away before it swallowed her whole.

The door creaked softly as she pushed it open. The cool air inside hit her like a reset button.

She gripped the edge of the sink, fingers pressing into the cold ceramic as she met her own gaze in the mirror.

Her reflection startled her.

Messy bun slipping loose, stray strands clinging to her damp forehead. Red-rimmed eyes, dark circles stark against her pale skin. Lips pressed so tightly together, they almost disappeared.

This isn’t me.

The thought hit hard, almost making her take a step back.

She wasn’t like this. She wasn’t someone who lashed out in frustration. She wasn’t someone who let exhaustion get the better of her.

And now, she wasn’t just tired—she was scared.

What had she done?

Would this come back to bite her? Would Karan make things difficult for her? Would seniors start seeing her as the resident who couldn’t keep her head down, the one who answered back?

Her mother had always told her to be firm but calm, to stand her ground without letting emotions cloud her judgment. And yet, tonight—one argument, one moment of helplessness, and she had—

She exhaled shakily, dropping her head for a second before turning on the tap. Cold water rushed over her fingers, and she cupped some in her palms, splashing it onto her face. The sting of it grounded her, momentarily washing away the heat creeping up her skin.

Better. Not good, but better.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her back to reality. She fished it out, stared at the screen for a second, then locked it again.

Not now.

Straightening, she dragged a hand down her face, inhaled deeply, and adjusted her posture. Shoulders back. Chin up.

She still had hours left in this shift. Whatever came next, she’d deal with it.

With one last steadying breath, she pushed open the door and walked out.

—————————

It had been two days since the worst night of her life in this hospital—two days of trying to shake off the weight of humiliation and guilt. Aarohi had taken leave to steady herself, to somehow regain her footing after the emotional storm that had knocked her down.

The sinking feeling of embarrassment lingered, but she shoved it to the back of her mind, locking it away where she wouldn’t have to deal with it. Not now.

“Back to square one,” Aarohi muttered with a sigh, forcing a smile onto her face as she stepped into the hospital.

Niharika—a fellow first-year anaesthesia resident—chuckled at her words. “How did this place take just a month to make us hate it?”

Aarohi laughed, shaking her head as the two of them made their way to mark attendance. The familiarity of her friend’s company felt comforting, a small bubble of normalcy in the chaos of her thoughts.

As the line of residents shuffled forward, Aarohi listened half-heartedly to Niharika’s lighthearted complaints. But her focus wavered when a certain presence brushed past her awareness.

Her gaze lifted instinctively, and there he was—walking toward the surgery department. Aarohi’s heart stuttered. It was as if he could feel her eyes on him because, at that exact moment, Dr. Karan looked up.

For a second, she froze, her breath catching. She expected him to glare or dismiss her entirely. Instead, his eyes lingered, holding hers longer than she anticipated. There was no trace of the sharp frustration she remembered from that night. His gaze wasn’t soft, exactly, but it wasn’t hostile either.

Confused, Aarohi broke the contact, lowering her eyes quickly. She turned toward Niharika, nodding along to her words as though she were still part of the conversation. But her mind was elsewhere, her thoughts swirling as she stole another glance at his retreating figure.

Later that afternoon, Aarohi stood in the surgery ICU, charting a post-op patient’s vitals. The monotony of her task was oddly calming, helping her block out everything that had been weighing on her mind. But that calmness shattered the moment she noticed someone entering through the corner of her eye.

Karan.

Her heartbeat quickened, an involuntary reaction she wished she could control. She kept her face neutral, focusing intently on the chart in front of her. Fake it till you make it. That had to work for now.

It was as if the universe had decided to throw her straight into the fire she’d been avoiding by taking leave. Of all the patients, he had to come and stand beside the very one she was working on.

Karan began examining the patient while she pretended to focus on writing her notes. The proximity was unbearable; she could feel his presence like a weight on her shoulders. But Aarohi refused to look at him.

When he finished the examination, he moved to stand directly beside her. Aarohi stiffened, her eyes glued to the paper in front of her, hoping he would just leave.

“Hi,” he said softly.

The unexpected gentleness in his tone made her look up, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. Her cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment as she forced a polite smile. “Hey,” she replied.

“Can I have the file for a moment?” he asked, extending his hand toward her.

Aarohi glanced down at the file she was holding and wordlessly passed it to him. “Sure.”

He began jotting down his notes, and despite her best efforts, Aarohi found herself stealing glances at him. She tried to read his expression, searching for any sign that told her if he hated her or not.

“Are you a first-year resident?” he asked, breaking the silence.

The question caught her off guard. Does he not remember me? she wondered, her confusion mounting.

“Yeah, anaesthesia resident,” she replied cautiously.

“And your name is?” He looked up at her briefly, his expression unreadable, as she nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Aarohi,” she answered.

Karan finished his note, signed the chart, and turned to face her fully. Extending his hand, he said, “I’m Dr. Karan, second-year surgery resident.”

Aarohi blinked. What?

For a moment, she just stared at his outstretched hand, her brain struggling to process. Was he serious? She searched his face for any sign that he was messing with her, but there was nothing—just a calm, neutral expression.

Is he actually pretending we’ve never met?

Her fingers twitched at her sides, torn between calling him out and playing along. A part of her wanted to remind him of the night she’d snapped at him, to see if he’d flinch. But another part—the part that was exhausted from overthinking—decided against it.

“Uh, yeah, I know that, sir,” she said, hesitating before shaking his hand.

He raised an eyebrow. “But we haven’t met before, right?”

Aarohi felt her stomach twist. “Uh, no,” she said cautiously. “But everyone knows you, so… I know you.”

“Really?” His lips twitched slightly, as if amused. “Anyways, my work’s done here. See you soon?”

Aarohi nodded, still confused as he walked out of the ICU without another word. She stared after him, her mind racing.

Has he genuinely forgotten? Or is this his way of restarting things?

Whatever it was, Aarohi couldn’t make sense of it. She shook her head, muttering under her breath. Such a weird guy.